


while you're still young

by lokh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5445746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokh/pseuds/lokh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you say the words 'friendship drama', the first thing to come to mind probably wouldn't be a group of first graders trying to put their fists in each others' faces. This is, however, the unfortunate reality for a single Oikawa Tooru, who is beginning to sorely regret pursuing education.</p><p>(at least one of the dads is hot</p><p>did you know there are no laws against teacher/parent relationships. who knew)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hananapeel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hananapeel/gifts).



> im so mcfuckening sorry... It was going to be something short but it spiralled out of control :( Regardless I hope you'll like it at least somewhat!! Also forgive me if anyone comes off out of character? This is, after all, a universe where Iwa and Oikawa never met as children, so I tried to project what they'd be like now given that understanding. Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to tumlr users [hitoka-chan](hitoka-chan.tumblr.com) and [iwasuga](iwasuga.tumblr.com) for betaing!!

Tooru is too damn _old_ for this.

Oh, he likes to say it _all_ the time, of course, to all the other teachers and nurses and visitors and any aggrieved adult unfortunate enough to end up in the staff room. This is, however, the first time that he's really _felt_ it, like his joints were creaking just by listening to these kids scream at each other tirelessly. It wasn't often that Tooru regretted his choice in becoming an elementary school teacher, but in this instance, he's regretting agreeing to teach the one class with the noisiest and most over-enthusiastic kids in the entirety of the first grade. He has _no idea_ what the high school teachers have been complaining about - no one knows true pain until they're watching over a bunch of six year olds screaming their heads off over some sort of beetle.

"Hey," he says, after a deliberate pause (and not at all because he'd had a momentary mid-life crisis). "I'm reprimanding you, here. Stop being so loud so I can talk to you."

Three angry little faces glare stubbornly back at him. Well, _one,_ really.

Akira, so far as he could tell, hadn't made any sort of facial expression the whole year. Honestly, in a six year old, it was sort of worrying, especially given how quiet and unmotivated he generally was, but he's been doing well enough in class, and at the very least Tooru is sure he has a friend in Yuutarou (who also seems incapable of glaring at his teacher - he'd done it for a second but immediately looked repentant. By far, he's Tooru's favorite student of the trio, if only because of how easy he was to handle in comparison).

That left Tobio-chan. Whose face, these days, seemed permanently morphed into a scowl completely unbefitting of a prepubescent child, so it's probably inaccurate to say he's glaring at Tooru _specifically_. It fails to make Tooru feel any better about the situation.

"I wouldn't be if they didn't keep making _fun_ of me," Tobio says. " _They're_ the ones who're being too loud 'n never doing their work!"

Yuutarou's face goes bright red, desk clattering as he rises to his feet, and Tooru tries to give his impending headache the warmest welcome he can manage a la children's screamfest. Yuutarou opens his mouth, all teeth showing and hackles raised, but to Tooru's surprise, it's _Akira_ who says something first, quiet and grumbled from where he remains slumped over his desk.

" _Maybe_ if you minded your own business, we wouldn't need to talk to you _at all_."

In retrospect, having the trio sit next to each other when the reason they were there at all was because they broke out into a fistfight during lunch was, in fact, a terrible idea. Tooru takes a moment to ponder this, a sort of passing and absent fascination at all the little things in life as they start yelling at each other and raising their fists and just being _children._ To be fair, he was only now realizing that Akira may not be nearly as docile as he thought he was, completely eviscerating his earlier expectations that he might mediate between his hotheaded companions.

"Akira-kun, Yuutarou-kun, stop that," Tooru says, when their yelling only escalates and their hands are already fisted into each other’s shirt collars. Yuutarou and Tobio appear to be off in their own little fight club, insulated by whatever drives hatred in tiny children, and the only indication that Akira had heard him is that he's finally stopped egging them on and has resigned to just staring stubbornly out the window. "Tobio-kun. _Tobio-kun_."

These are the angriest children Tooru has ever _seen_. Forget Takeru and accidentally destroying his volleyball in front of him - these two look like they're ready to break all their fingers on each other’s _faces_.

" _Tobio-chan!"_

Yuutarou shoves him away roughly, scowls still thickly plastered on their faces, and Tobio shakes out his arms as though to get rid of the energy that was supposed to have delivered the final blow. It's a strange thing to watch, on a six year old, and Tooru wonders, in a lapse of lucidity, whether he would've really, _really_ disliked the way this kid acted if they had ever attended school together.

"Don't call me that," Tobio says, between pants, and then as an afterthought, "please, _sensei_."

"Because you asked so nicely," Tooru says, reflexively. Tobio is too engrossed in his staring competition with Yuutarou that he fails to give him a withering look at the words. "I don't know why you three have been so angry at each other lately. I thought you were all _friends!"_

And he really _does_ have to wonder. They were the _Them_ of the school, the Kitagawa Trio™. Three children that had never met before, on their first day at Kitagawa Daiichi, found a common love for, of all things, _sport_. It didn't matter _what_ sport they were being made to play, or whether or not they were on the same team; all three of them were competitive and competent, and as a group were easily the most enthusiastic of all other participants. In particular, they seemed entranced by volleyball (though Tooru would resign from his job before he let a bunch of tiny, _tiny_ fragile children bring a volleyball to play with in a yard full of even _more_ fragile windows and tried patiences).

Outside of that, they were, in all honesty, the _least_ determined of their peers. Probably they were drawn together by their shared apathy to mathematics, or their coinciding sleep schedules in Japanese reading class. Well, the hows and whys weren't of that much import. It was undeniable to everyone that had ever been in the vicinity of the three that they were quite close, nothing short of the definition of 'friends'. They always chose to be in the same groups (though it's possible other students had been scared away by Tobio's bluntness), always sat together, spent lunches together, and were just in general always in the company of each other surrounded by an air of camaraderie.

It only made the change even more _confusing_.

Maybe it's because they're so hard to ignore, together or individually, that Tooru noticed at all.

It was only in the past two weeks or so that they began to act strange. (Tooru wasn't exactly sure when, since the fistfight was the first _real_ incident they'd had to deal with, and also he hadn't fallen so low as to have nothing to do with his life but to monitor the intricacies of childrens' social lives.) Tobio's voice has always been naturally loud; Yuutarou's voice has always gotten louder the more excited he was. Akira was the least outspoken of the three, but nonetheless talked along with them. Together, their voices were a perpetual cacophony of childish glee and screeching, plaguing classrooms with every group activity Tooru set and any lunch break he was unlucky enough to spend outside. It's probably why he didn't notice straight away when the cacophony quieted to two voices, but he definitely noticed when the voices became reduced to _one_.

Akira had petered out first, in more ways than one. Suddenly it seemed like he only ever talked to Yuutarou - he barely looked at Tobio these days. He'd never had particularly great stamina, but it's the first time Tooru has seen him outright _refuse_ to put effort into sport, _especially_ if he was on the same team as Tobio. Tooru has no idea how passive-aggressive the kid is going to be when he grows up, but he sure is glad he managed to catch him during the time of his life where it's (mostly) harmless.

That left Yuutarou and Tobio.

From the moment they met, it seemed like they'd either be best friends or worst enemies. Both loud, both incredibly hard-headed and all around stubborn, even for six year olds. When they became friends, Tooru thought it'd stay that way - clearly, he was wrong, but he has no idea _why._ There's been no obvious change in behavior that would justify hostility (or, at least, as hostile as first graders can be), so it could just be an internal conflict that he as an outsider isn't privy to.

(He could, of course, just ask, but there are boundaries, he thinks, that one has as a teacher, and this was one of them. Admittedly, now that they've actually put themselves and others in danger, he should step in, but up until then, it didn't seem necessary. It wouldn't exactly be _hard_ to find out; he could just ask Yuutarou and he'd spill immediately. He'd also probably cry while doing so, and it would just feel like bullying, so.)

It seemed like one moment, they were stuck together with the most irritatingly stubborn glue ever, and the next moment they were a bunch of magnets that, no matter how hard one tried, would _not_ stick together. Suddenly they weren't in the same groups, they weren't together at lunch, they didn't play on the same teams, and were generally not in the same _vicinity_ of each other.

The thing is that it didn't seem like bullying. None of them had the propensity for that. If it were bullying, the most likely suspect would be Tobio, but for all his bluntness, he's never been one to make trouble. Now that he was drifting away from Yuutarou and Akira, it was becoming more and more obvious that he simply didn't have any other friends. Still, other kids never reported him being anything worse than rude, and the alternative would be that Akira and Yuutarou are the bullies, which was also unbelievable. You could never be too sure, though, with children.

Tooru really needs to stop thinking so hard about this, otherwise he's going to trigger another mid-life crisis. How dull must his personal life be if he has the time to ponder these things like it was political history? Maybe it's time to pick something up again. Or get a new job.

"We're _not_ friends," Akira mutters, presently, words muffled by the palm of his hand, and Tobio looks like he's been _scolded._ The mystery grows even deeper.

They refuse to talk or even look at each other, after that. Really, it should be a step up from physical threats and noise pollution, but it makes Tooru despair of his responsibilities even more. Just telling them _not_ to fight isn't even a viable _short_ -term solution, but that's all he has right now. Until he can figure out what was going on, there's nothing he can do to fix the issue. And there's no way he was going to figure it out until he'd thought about the best way to go about doing so.

Despite knowing its futility, Tooru tries his best not to sound as flat as he feels when he says to them, finally, "I don't know what's going on with you three, but you shouldn't be fighting. Because no one got hurt, we're not going to call your parents, but if it ever happens again, we will. You really scared the other kids, you know?"

Yuutarou has the decency to look guilty about it, while Akira looks, at the very least, mildly discomfited by the idea. Tobio looks at him like the idea is incomprehensible. Tooru can't do anything but sigh about it, really.

"You can talk to me, if anything's wrong, you know. Or if you don't want to talk to me, one of the other teachers, or maybe your parents. But try not to fight each other, alright? Be safe going home, you're all dismissed."

Most kids would be ecstatic at the dismissal, wasting nary a second to dash out of the classroom, but the three stand slowly and warily, as though they'll be unable to stop themselves from trying to attack each other should anyone move fast enough to give them a reason. Tobio is the first to bow, stiffly and awkwardly, before leaving with restrained footsteps. Yuutarou watches him as he goes, scowl still heavy on his face, but it immediately melts away as he turns to look at Akira. Watching the scene play out is like watching a somber play acted out by chubby-cheeked children, entirely too serious and out of place.

"Aki-chan..."

"We can still go, tomorrow, Yuu. Probably. See you later."

Yuutarou's mouth twists, as though wringing out his doubt and concern, but he says nothing else, leaving with little resistance. Akira is the only one left besides Tooru, and even for _him_ , he's moving unusually slow. Their bags are already packed, nothing else left to put away, and Tooru's first instinct is to wonder if he really _did_ get injured and just hid it to avoid retribution. The idea is enough to make him step closer, disconfirm his fears.

"Akira-kun," Tooru says slowly, so as to not surprise him. Akira looks up at him almost as slowly, as though he _knows_ what he's going to ask and despairs of his eventual need to answer. "Is anything the matter? None of you are getting punished, it's alright to leave."

Akira's face scrunches up, the picture of a disgruntled teenager asked an embarrassing question by an entirely too concerned parent, and Tooru feels his eyes going a bit crossed in his attempt to hold in his laughter. Akira doesn't quite fiddle - it's a bit too obvious an emotional expression to be comfortable on his countenance - but his fingers flex against the desk like he _wants_ to, little knees knocking as his feet shuffle ever so slightly.

"No... it's just that my dad-"

The door rattles as it hits the frame, just shy of being a full-on _slam_ , and even the person to abruptly enter jumps at the sound. It therefore takes a moment for Tooru to look up (as all his faculties had suddenly found themselves frantically preventing his heart from falling out), and when he does, holy _shit_.

"Akira," the man at the door says, deep voice laced with relief and confusion. Akira actually _ducks his head in embarrassment._ Tooru has to exert actual effort to stop himself from doing the same thing. His practiced smile of politeness suddenly becomes the most difficult task he's ever undertaken in the face of this- this _Adonis_ that is _also_ apparently Akira's _father_. He's huffing, a little, looking as though he ran from the gates straight to the second floor classroom, and while his heaving chest may be helping him catch his breath, the way it makes his thin polo stretch with each exhale certainly doesn't help Tooru. The back of his mind says, 'how low have your standards fallen since entering the education industry', but he stomps it down in favor of the rest of his brain thanking the _gods_ he never resigned as a teacher, precisely to witness this moment.

"Dad," Akira mumbles, glumly, failing at hiding his squirming as the man stalks over to fuss over him, holding his shoulders and looking over him. Had Tooru been in a more lucid state of mind, he may have observed, more carefully, how despite his reluctance, Akira didn't shy away, even burying his small hands into the folds of his rolled sleeves. Presently, he's still trying to gather his bearings, and the thought is left for a mid-shower revelation (whereupon Tooru would drop the shampoo bottle and shave another ten years off his life).

"Um," Tooru says, mostly involuntary and hopefully not in a squeak, clearing his throat as he resists the urge to step back. The man looks at him, then, sharp eyes chocolate brown in the light of the afternoon sun, and Tooru reminds himself that he's a _professional_ and he needs to pull himself the heck together. "Sorry, I was just talking with some of the students. I hadn't realized how late it was. I'm Akira-kun's teacher, Oikawa Tooru. And you are...?"

"Ah," he says, standing, and Akira looks grateful as the man bows slightly, making full-scale fretting impossible. "Sorry for the intrusion. I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, Akira's father. I got worried when he wasn't at the gate after class, so..."

"No, it's fine, Iwaizumi-san," Tooru smiles, and the name is clunky and awkward and unbearably warm on his tongue. "As I said, I wasn't aware that I'd been keeping them behind for so long."

Then he pauses.

"Iwaizumi-san," he says, again, and so quickly the name no longer feels a stranger on his lips. He doesn't play so close attention to the names on the roll, but he's still certain that Akira's last name is listed as 'Kunimi', neat and short near the top of the roster. Then he closes his mouth. There could be any number of reasons that it was so, a strange set of circumstances that Tooru was less than an observer to. Still, there are boundaries, he thinks, and he switches topics with an easy grin. "Actually, I was hoping I could talk to you about something regarding your son. If it's alright...?"

"Oh, yeah, that's fine," Iwaizumi replies. Then he turns to squint at Akira. Akira squints back, a small wobbly scowl forming on his face. Tooru squints, too, if only because it seems to appropriately convey his confusion.

"C'mon, squirt. Go sit over there for a bit."

The scowl on Akira's face becomes less small and less wobbly. Nonetheless, he complies, with only a little eye-rolling involved, slouching over to the back of the classroom and sinking into the furthest seat possible, just to make a point. When he's settled and silent (there's really nothing they can do about his insistent peeking), Tooru turns to smile at Iwaizumi.

"First off, I was wondering if you've noticed Akira-kun acting... strange, lately."

"What do you mean?"

"Has his behavior changed at all within the last few weeks? Has he been having trouble at home, or has he been fighting with friends, or..."

" _Sensei_ , is something going on with Akira in school?"

No beating around the bush here. Iwaizumi's gaze hasn't wavered from his at all, steady and sure as his posture. Up close, Tooru notices that the other man is actually an inch or so shorter than him. It's really the least striking thing about him, when his breadth is more than enough to make up for it. Tooru really hopes that he doesn't end up being one of those parents that are really hard to deal with, a la 'let me speak to your manager'. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions, Iwaizumi-san. And please, 'Oikawa-san' is just fine. I promise there's nothing serious to worry about. If you insist, I won't press, but I don't want to be giving you any wrong ideas, either."

Iwaizumi stares at him. For a moment, Tooru is _sure_ that he's going to argue with him, demand an explanation before spilling anything on his (Akira-kun's, _not_ his, that's what he means) private life, and while Tooru certainly wouldn't fault him for that, he dreads it all the same. Then Iwaizumi sighs through his nose, short and quiet, and Tooru tries his best not to smile at the contrast of his brows furrowing against the softening of his shoulders. Whether or not he succeeded, he'll never know, since Iwaizumi closes his eyes for a moment in contemplation.

"I don't know if this'll help at all," Iwaizumi starts, slowly, and though his eyes open again, they're focused on something beyond the window, mapping out memories onto his vision. Tooru takes a moment to appreciate the fact that despite the darkness of his skin, without the looming danger of getting caught, he can see a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. "Since whenever he talks about school, it's either about Yuutarou or about sport. He doesn't really talk about _that_ , often, either. Uh, anyway, if you mean anything strange, he _does_ seem to be talking a bit more, but lately he's been talking about his other friend, Tobio."

Tooru hums. If Akira acts the same at home as he does in class, then Iwaizumi probably took the increased conversation as a positive thing - or, at least, he'd hoped so. Tooru can see it in the cloudiness of his gaze, the slight furrow and the twitch of the lips; he's realized it probably _wasn't_ a positive thing, and it makes more sense for it to be otherwise. He's known this man for all of three minutes and still the idea that _he's_ the one that brought upon this revelation doesn't sit well with Tooru.

"Could you tell me a little bit more about what he's been saying about Tobio? Are there any complaints about his behavior, is he making trouble...? If that's alright - I promise this remains strictly confidential."

Iwaizumi raises a thick brow at him, a wry smile playing at his lips. Tooru's grin grows wider. He gives in.

"Yuutarou and Akira have taken to calling Tobio 'the _King_ ' - I actually wasn't sure who they were talking about, at first. He's only been over a couple of times, and he seems like a nice boy. Akira's been saying that recently he's been acting, uh, 'like he's got a stick up his butt', in his words. Stuff like how Tobio's been nitpicking over every single thing, getting on their case when they don't 'try hard enough' or do things the way he wants... it's probably better to ask them about it."

"I see," Tooru says, and it's all he can do to stop himself from pinching the bridge of his nose because _oh,_ does he _know_. He may or may not have started out as one of those kids, but quickly grew out of it, and quickly grew to despise children like that. It's because of this that he knows that it's ultimately up to Tobio to get over it, and there's only so much they can do as teachers. He chuckles, a little, to compensate for it. "If that's the case, then it's likely that's all there is to it. Maybe it's because Akira-kun doesn't really express his emotions that I thought it could be more serious."

"He doesn't really smile a lot at home, either," Iwaizumi says, a reluctant confession. "Or really makes any other expression. I mean, he's never been a loud kid, but it's worrying sometimes. Is something wrong at school? Am _I_ the problem?"

"I'm sure he loves you very much," Tooru says, absently, but he's looking at Iwaizumi strangely, gaze unfocused and piercing. It's the first time Iwaizumi's seen him without the polite smile on his face, and he tries not to swallow too audibly. "He smiles at home?"

"Sometimes," Iwaizumi bristles, shoulders raised as defensively as is allowed in polite conversation (and only making the breadth of them even more prominent and god, Tooru, concentrate on the fact he took it the wrong way!). There's a moment of pure surprise - he'd sort of realized that it may have not been the best thing to say even as it was coming out of his mouth - but what would warrant such a strong reaction? Tooru blinks, backtracks.

Then he raises his hands placatingly, trying for a smile.

"I don't mean to imply anything, Iwaizumi-san! Forgive me if it came off that way. It's just that I've never seen him smile at _school_."

Iwaizumi stares. Tooru may be exaggerating a little (he's seen the tiny genuine smiles with Yuutarou, but never when he thinks he or someone else may be looking), but he can't even bring himself to be slightly guilty at the white lie.

He looks dumbfounded.

"He likes you a lot more than you think, Iwaizumi-san," Tooru says, when Iwaizumi fails to respond after a minute of gaping. Akira is looking over at them suspiciously from the other side of the room, not at all trying to hide it as he slowly packs his things, but he doesn't come any closer and most likely hadn't heard anything (Tooru hopes). "He just shows it differently, I think. In any case, though I may not be entirely qualified to say so on the matter, I highly doubt that the cause for his concerns would be _you_."

Iwaizumi continues to stare, expression unreadable. Tooru shifts onto his other foot. Maybe he shouldn't have presumed to know his feelings.

"So," Iwaizumi says, finally, slowly and drawn out as though unsure of how to start. His brows furrow as coherent thought comes back to him, and Tooru finds himself breathing again. "Does he seem _unhappy_ in class?"

Tooru falters. "Well, I wouldn't say that exactly. Like you said, he's not the type to show his emotions on his face. But I do think that lately he's been less... content, for lack of better word."

They both look over at Akira. He's given up on trying to eavesdrop, and looks ready to fall asleep against the desk. Iwaizumi has this horribly fond look on his face, the line of his brows softening, and it's all Tooru can do to not melt then and there. Then Iwaizumi looks back at him expectantly, and for a moment he's convinced that he's about to get offended over his own expression not being fond enough.

"We felt it wasn't serious enough an incident to report to parents, but Akira-kun was involved in a fight today on school grounds."

" _What_?"

The leaves by the window snap violently, birds startled by the more than loud shout. Akira's head had snapped up from where it had been slumped onto the desk, and his eyes are wide with surprise. Distantly, Tooru notes that there's no fear in them, even as Iwaizumi sheepishly apologizes, downward gaze contrite, and it puts him at ease, somewhat, a lifted weight he hadn't known was there.

Tooru smiles at him in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, and reluctantly, Akira lets his head fall back onto the tabletop, a soft _thunk_ breaking the tension. "Iwaizumi-san, if anything serious happened, we would have notified you immediately. No one was hurt. And I should have clarified - while Akira-kun was involved, he wasn't, ah, actively fighting."

It was pretty pathetic wording, making Iwaizumi squint at him, but there really is no way to say politely that his son had been goading Tobio into a fight and encouraged Yuutarou to show him what for. Thankfully, Iwaizumi doesn't press further. If anything, his exasperated sigh seems to indicate he's already got an idea of what had happened.

"I'm sorry for the trouble," Iwaizumi says, bowing deeply. Tooru tries not to jump out of his damn skin because _yikes_ , his head is _way too close_ for school hours.

"Ah, none of that, Iwaizumi-san, please," Tooru pleads, because that's what he's doing, no matter how much he wants to sound suave and generous. Iwaizumi raises his head, and Tooru has never been so grateful in his life. "They're just children being children. If I couldn't handle this much, I would've resigned long ago."

And he's definitely not about to tell him that he was thinking about it just days ago, not when he smiles so warmly at the words, a huff of laughter shaking his shoulders.

"So I'm guessing the fight involved Yuutarou and Tobio, too," Iwaizumi says, after the laughter dies down, a statement more than any sort of question. Tooru pauses; he's sharper than his frankness would suggest. If he pauses for too long, though, he's going to start becoming too aware of his own thoughts noting down these little things as though he's an employer at a job interview, and it's enough to make him actually start _feeling_ ridiculous.

"Just them, yes. It took place during lunch time, in the middle of the schoolyard. Apparently, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, maybe a bit more arguing than usual, and then they were shouting and trying to hit each other. Unfortunately, none of the students seem to have heard what they were fighting about," Tooru explains. The fact that the children probably hadn't heard due to their cheering on and goading is just a fact better left unsaid. "From what you've told me, though, it sounds like a simple children's spat. It's just that they've been behaving oddly for a couple of weeks, now, and I was worried it was something bigger that would affect their studies."

"Regardless, I'll see what I can do," Iwaizumi says, just short of a sigh. His shoulders droop, and suddenly he's a tired and overworked father again, shirt wrinkled and clinging to skin and not whatever Tooru had been making him out to be in his head. It's humbling, if anything else, and reminds him of how much time has passed, and how exhausted they all are.

"Really, thank you for your time," Tooru says. Iwaizumi doesn't quite smile, but the warmth is there. Tooru is starting to wonder whether Akira's expressionlessness came from his father - even so, it's different, on both of them. Where Akira's expression is usually cool, a stillness drawn from calm and quiet, Iwaizumi's expression was friendlier, a flickering flame. If he had to compare his resting face to anyone's, it'd be Yuutarou, in all honesty.

"Don't mention it. It wasn't a planned meeting or anything. Sorry for keeping you, and thanks, Oikawa-san."

Tooru smiles. It's unexpectedly tough against the thickness of words unsaid in his throat. Tooru _wants_ to say that a planned meeting would be a good idea. He wants to say that they should keep in touch, monitor the situation in tandem so that they may deal with it better. He wants to say that a better understanding of each other will help the children, even knowing that these words are a pale guise for a desire to _know_ him. Maybe another him would have done so, would have felt righteous and determined enough about his own wants that he would have wholeheartedly pursued it. Another him might've tried to flirt with him disastrously (though maybe only if that 'him' wasn't also a teacher. He's always wondered about the legality of these things).

This Tooru watches as Iwaizumi jogs over to Akira, his son's head rising a fraction too slow in a deliberate attempt to avoid looking too eager. Akira slings his bag over his back, shuffling carefully out of his seat and not bothering to push it in as he moves to stand next to his father. This Tooru is resigned to their orbits never meeting again, the situation on its way to solved and other ways to help the situation besides talking to Iwaizumi. It doesn't mean he can't be disappointed about it.

The pair bow slightly, at the threshold, and Tooru watches as they disappear into the corridor, voices lost to distance. It's not very long past noon, yet, the sky still blue and the sun still relentlessly shining. The forecast predicted showers - that must be for later. For now, it's pleasantly warm, if not slightly humid, the cool and soft breeze a saving grace. Tooru locks the door after them, and yawns. If he’s lucky, he can just sleep through the weekend, and hopefully not have to deal with injured children next week.

"Let's go, Akira. Sorry for making you wait."

"It's fine," is what he says, but his adamant staring says anything _but_. As his father, Iwaizumi is less than ready to jump at the chance to admit that his own son's stare has the tendency to unnerve him, but this stare is the stare to end all stares. Unblinking, unmoving, and full of suspicion. Iwaizumi manages to hold his gaze for maybe a minute altogether - then he gives up the moment they make it out of the school gates, because how the hell is he going to make _any_ eye contact on the walk home?

Akira looks away. The fear does not subside. If anything, it _festers_.

"You're weird," Akira declares, finally, a disappointing discovery after scrying the planes of his father's face. Iwaizumi is _not hurt at all_ , because that was a _completely unjustified remark._ Akira says, again, as though now addressing the rest of the planet to partake in his lament, "you're so weird."

"Uh, _how_ ," Iwaizumi chokes out, betrayed by his own flesh and blood, and shouldn't he be reprimanding Akira for getting involved in a fight and not trying to stop it?

"You were just. _Embarrassing_ ," he manages to drag out of his throat, nose scrunched like he'd just smelled a bit of eau de secondhand embarrassment. "You were smiling all gross-like. And laughing too much. Oikawa-sensei isn't even _funny_. _"_

"Smiling is _polite_ ," Iwaizumi reminds him, and Akira's face scrunches up until he's nigh unrecognizable. Probably he didn't see why it couldn't be _both_ , but Iwaizumi is already treading on unfamiliar territory here. Akira has the tendency to say a lot of things about a person, but _embarrassing_ (and about his _dad_!) is a new one. "And he wasn't _trying_ to be funny."

"That's even _worse_."

That's when Iwaizumi's self-esteem retaliates, for even such a resilient being as Hajime will crumble with enough weight, and he ruffles Akira's hair until the part disappears into a flurry of hair and hands futilely pushing him away. Akira squeals, writhes, pushes and complains - Iwaizumi uses this precious time to will away the uninvited redness in his cheeks.

"You're being awfully cheerful, considering I've just been told you were in a fight," Iwaizumi says, hand stilling. Akira flinches guiltily. "Wasn't Yuu supposed to come over tomorrow?"

Akira mumbles something incomprehensible, arms crossed tightly. Iwaizumi smirks.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"'M sorry," Akira grumbles, just barely audible. Iwaizumi considers making him say it louder, but he's talking again before he can make up his mind. "Please let Yuu come over."

Then Akira is looking up at him, expecting him to ask why they'd fought in the first place and dreading having to answer. Iwaizumi wasn't even _sure_ he would tell him. The thought is a cold ache in his chest, the idea of his son distrusting him. The idea that he hadn't noticed anything amiss in the first place. Akira chews on his lip, and Iwaizumi realizes his opportunity has passed. He sighs, theatrically.

" _Well,_ I _guess_ we can't disappoint Yuu," he says. Akira immediately brightens. "Still, I can't promise he can come over if you ever get in a fight again. Next time, just talk to Oikawa-san - anything before trying to beat anyone up."

Akira looks like he's going to protest, but he thinks better of it, settling for a disgruntled pout instead. Iwaizumi isn't necessarily happy about it either, but it's easier to think about than his son's strange comments on him and Oikawa-san. That way lies thoughts of Oikawa's light-hearted words, his diluted smile and his strong presence. If anyone was weird, here, it would be _him_. Still, it wouldn't be helping anyone to think about it right now. They resume their trek home, and Iwaizumi looks at his son.

"So how was class, Akira?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like a bolt from the blue, a new chapter from me to you!!
> 
> a) i am incredibly sorry for the fact it took over a year for this to update  
> b) this isn't actually the whole chapter, but because of the aforementioned year i thought i'd better put _something_ up. that said, the chapter count has gone up as a result. this may keep happening but definitely it will not exceed 10 chapters
> 
> i hope that despite the wait, you can enjoy!

The situation is definitely on its way to solved, if having a busted engine in the middle of a desert highway with no reception could count as being on the way.

They don't fight on school grounds again, for that much Tooru can be thankful. If kept out of each other's circles, they're perfectly docile - otherwise, forced together, they work in strained silence and minimal eye contact. It's more than what Tooru can ask for, really, given that they're hardly the only trouble bunch of the entire grade and beyond (there's a pair in the fifth grade that Tooru is doing his _damnedest_ to not think about) - they're basically a broken toenail in comparison.

That said, he still has to wonder whether they'll be able to make it through the sports festival the way they are now.

He's been keeping a more watchful eye on them than he'd like to admit. _Someone_ started it - but you couldn't really trust children on their word in those matters. There was too much finger pointing, never singling out one suspect. In this case though, there was only one person having fingers pointed at. (Two fingers, but Tooru's assuming the rest of the class is too scared to accuse him of anything.) Once you knew what to look for, it really was quite obvious. It was maybe less obvious whenever he wasn't playing sport or anything else in the yard, though the fact that he was playing less often didn't go unnoticed. Tooru isn't even sure that he knows how uncomfortable he makes the other kids - quick to raise his voice, but doesn't seem to notice their flinches and avoidance. It's probably because he's a child, he knows - no one has told him, so he doesn't realize it. Still, waiting for him to grow out of it isn't exactly going to help the other students.

Of course, he's talking about Tobio.

He'd thought that Akira and Yuutarou must have been exaggerating in their descriptions. They made him sound like some sort of tyrannical _king_ (and Tooru wishes they could use such vivid descriptions in their writing); he blamed them for things that weren't their fault (like tipping over a pencil case), then blamed personal attributes for things happening (e.g. Yuutarou only knocked it over because he's clumsy and he should learn to watch where he's going), and _worse,_ made himself sound _better_ than them (e.g. if he'd been faster and paid attention to everything, "like me", that wouldn't have happened). It sounds like the sort of character massacre only an asshole adult would be capable of, but here Tooru is, watching what is apparently the Devil incarnate take the form of a small child.

Apparently even _that_ hadn't been enough to explain their hostility. Doing it during class is one thing (in any case, it's not like Akira or Yuutarou let it go without their own rebuttals - sometimes caustic enough to make _Tooru_ wince) - sport is _something else entirely_. Maybe it's because his tiny body could only hold so much energy and adrenalin - the excess expended itself through _yelling_. Suddenly Akira wasn't motivated enough, or fast enough - suddenly Yuutarou didn't catch up to him fast enough or didn't hit hard enough. Suddenly nothing was _enough_ , and none of the other students wanted to be close enough to find out whether they, perhaps, would be enough, because even being in the vicinity of an angry Tobio was enough to make some of them burst into tears.

As it is, the rest of the class watches the trio with growing wariness as the sports festival approaches. It's no secret that the trio are, by far, the most competitive and, indeed, some of the most athletic children of the grade. Having them divided not only lessens the class' chances at beating others in the grade, but also means the brunt of Tobio's 'nitpickiness' will be taken by whoever is unlucky enough to be in the area. (Or, more to the point, on his _team_.)

"Remember to be on time tomorrow, and _don't_ forget what we've rehearsed, alright?"

There's a chorus of yeses of varying excitement and exhaustion, and they file out without incident. Akira and Yuutarou wait for Tobio to leave first, scowls on their faces the whole way, trailing after the rest of the class.

The bell continues to ring in their absence, leaving the room that much bigger and quieter. Outside, the sky is beginning to desaturate, cloud and sky melting into a white haze. It's the promise of a shower, at the very least, and though Tooru can only (desperately) hope that tomorrow will make good on that promise, even now it seems like it'll the farthest thing from a biblical flood. A prayer or two for rain doesn't seem _too_ pathetic, Tooru decides, the first drops pattering gently against the glass. If he decides to take more drastic measures, there'll be no one there to see it.

 

 

 

 

The day of the sports festival is, thankfully (or perhaps not), cloudless.

"Sure beats that one rainy field day," Matsukawa says, beside him. Tooru wishes that he'd tried harder at his rain dance. "Couldn't get those kids to stay out of the puddles. I thought for sure someone would _drown_ in one of them."

"How are you so chipper this early in the morning," Tooru mutters, glumly, less a question than it is a plea for the universe to strike him where he (Tooru) stands. Matsukawa doesn't quite grin, but his schadenfreude is still obvious in his slight squint. If Tooru had been holding coffee, he would've thrown it at him.

"You get used to it, when you're a field day veteran like me. Also, I'm not in charge of first graders. Good luck, _sensei_."

" _Ugh_."

Matsukawa laughs as he trots off, waving jovially. Of _course_ Matsukawa gets to deal with the grades that somehow never have problems. It would make more sense, really, for kids to start acting up in the third or fourth grade, having acclimated themselves to the school system and therefore finding ways _around_ it. Or, worse yet, there _are_ troublesome children in his grade, but he manages to handle them well enough that Tooru never _hears_ about it. He doesn't even want to consider the idea.

Even this early in the morning (at least, early for a Saturday), the school grounds are filled with the buzz of conversation and the shuffle of movement. The parents seem to show up earlier and earlier every year, looking comfortable on their picnic blankets and plastic chairs as they watch the preparing teachers and students with sharp and wandering eyes. If they show up any earlier, it would be for the good of everyone involved (read: Tooru and the other bleary eyed teachers) to have it mandatory that they help out with the setting up. Either they stop showing up so early and making everyone more tense than they have to be, or they help out and make everything run that much faster. It's a win-win situation; they _can_ _’t lose_.

Adults aside, the children are gung ho enough about the whole thing that Tooru can't bring himself to be too bitter about the situation. They're excited in the simple way that children are about things; they yell about it loudly and pointedly talk about absolutely _nothing else,_ dragging everyone in the vicinity into their hellhole of adrenalin. Tooru doesn't remember ever being so excited about his own field days - maybe the kids these days had more bloodlust to awaken with the prospect of projectile throwing and dominance assertion. They've gathered vaguely around where they're supposed to be lining up in classes - really, Tooru is probably supposed to be over there orchestrating them, but he's not feeling quite alert enough to deal with a group of overexcited children, and also it seems as though they're doing just fine on their own.

His class in particular seems... _lacking_.

Not in terms of enthusiasm, of course. He'd laugh himself crying before he said anything as unbelievable as _that_. But Tooru is certain that he has at least twenty kids in his class (the exact number escapes him but he promises he can name all of them) - right now he can spot maybe _five_.

Of all the worst case scenarios he considered before the day, his entire class being a no-show was not one of them.

And given that there are roughly five students present, the three that he thought for _sure_ would’ve shown up even before the students were supposed to arrive and far before everything was set up _weren_ _’t there._

Maybe he spoke too soon. While all three have yet to show, Tooru notices something that looks suspiciously like a shallot a bit away from himself, a splotch of red in a sea of white-uniformed children.

"Yuutarou-kun?"

The shallot jumps, and Tooru is glad to discover that vegetables haven't, in fact, developed sentience and limbs, and that the owner of the shallot-head was indeed who he hoped it was. Yuutarou turns, away from a small group of children talking animatedly, and he waves when he spots Tooru coming closer.

"Good morning, Oikawa-sensei!"

The greeting has the rest of the group standing to attention and shouting off-time hellos, two outright running away while he's 'distracted'. It's cute how the kids assume the only reason that a teacher would talk to them outside of class is that they're in trouble (and by cute, he means _totally not hurtful or suspicious at all_ ) - the ones that didn't outright flee whisper at Yuutarou, ineffectively cupping their hands around their mouths and pointing somewhere a ways away from where they are now. Yuutarou nods, and off they go. Tooru clears his throat.

"Where's Akira-kun?"

He's trying not to sound too desperate (even though. He is), but he may as well not have tried. Yuutarou doesn't seem to notice, blinking vacantly. His tone is as confused as Tooru feels.

"I dunno. He said his dad was showing up, though, so maybe he's making them late or something."

Bless Yuutarou for answering the question that Tooru never asked (out loud). Children are yelling from a distance - this usually wouldn't warrant any sort of attention, but they happen to be yelling Yuutarou's name, jumping and waving. Yuutarou waves as he trots off, hovering close enough to the other students in line that it's easy to find him in his bright red cap but far away enough that none of the teachers try to usher him into line. As much as Yuutarou would like to keep his distance from Tobio, they're both next to each other on the roll and also on the same team - lining up here means lining up for his own execution, it seems. Still, how much harm could they do singing and raising their arms?

Swarms of adults and children flood through the gates, mixing and matching across each other and filling up the empty space of the field. It was hot enough to begin with - now the sweltering has that added dimension of sweat and mugginess to it, perfect for field days where all they can do to assuage their pain is to scream their hearts out. At the very least, Tooru's class appears to have arrived, more familiar faces among the waves, though there are a few faces that he still can't find in the crowd. (Not that he's looking for specific faces.)

The drums start, then. A heavy rhythm, rapid out of the blue.

It's enough to have Tooru jump. (And he’s _definitely_ not disappointed it wasn't thunder.) Mizoguchi is calling over any wayward students, ushering them into formation. The kids try to quiet down, forced out of their pairs and little groups, leaving the whispering of the parents and their shuffling painfully audible over the field. Despite himself and his early morning fatigue, his heart starts beating as fast as the drums, suddenly unbearably conscious of the sweat trailing down his palms. An entire year is long enough to forget how _terrible_ sports festivals can be, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't nice watching kids enjoying themselves and giving their all working together.

Tooru moves, too, walking over to stand behind the first graders. Being in charge of the white team means he's almost at the opposite end of the field to where Yuutarou and Tobio are standing. The drums are still going, though, against all expectations, so in most likelihood, Tooru's fears have _not_ been realized and they are, indeed, behaving themselves. For the moment. He doesn't allow himself to breathe, though. He hasn't seen Akira come in, though given the influx of parents late to the party and the fact that Akira is _also_ on the red team, he probably won't be able to see him come in anyway. It does not assuage his concerns.

(Nor his disappointment.

Which, you know. Doesn’t _exist._ )

The drumming stops. The speakers crackle as they come to life, eyes turned to them expectantly.

He breathes.

The school sings.

When the final beat strikes the drum, Tooru breathes out, and he thinks he's starting to remember why he hates sports festivals so much. Just the opening ceremony, and he's already so _tired_. Standing out in the blazing sun certainly isn't helping (and he is very much regretting his reluctance to ruin his hair with a hat), and, physical exhaustion aside, he's not sure he has the mental fortitude to withstand the rest of the day.

At least some of their preparation efforts paid off. Hikaru managed to keep their movements in time with the song despite earlier coordination issues, and for the most part, the students put in some effort into going along with the whole thing. It's just one less thing to worry about, one job well done out of the few dozens left to be evaluated. Tooru tries not to cry.

The coordination and discipline displayed only seconds earlier disappears in the blink of an eye, neat lines scattering back into groups of shouting children. The megaphones make their appearance - he can hear Matsukawa's distorted voice trying to wrangle the fourth graders into something even slightly resembling neat, hands flailing and trying to shoo them into line. Even _then_ , he looks a lot calmer than Tooru feels, and, spitefully, Tooru wishes he'd get trampled or tripped by children or something.

That said, the rampage of screaming children reawakens the fear that's been keeping Tooru up at night.

Activities going in ascending order by year, the fact that the first graders are getting theirs out of the way first should be a _blessing_. It'd be worse, for example, having their activity be _last_ , leaving a few more hours’ worth of fretting and hoping he won't be witness at a murder charge. But now is the time that the children are most excited. It'd be all too easy for any potential shouting and fighting to be buried beneath the sound of the crowds, no one alerted until it was too late.

If he could find just one of them...

Tooru shakes his head. Then he shakes it some more, for good measure. What are they, _murder suspects_? Kids will be kids - sometimes that involves them yelling at each other and having fights that need to be broken up, not be treated like they were federal crimes of the highest degree and have all efforts put into prevention. No, a lot of things could go wrong in this festival, and something like a fight would be one of the littler problems. Focusing on only them would help no one, Tooru reasons. Maybe he should be actually watching over the first graders, _like he's supposed to_ , and the universe will cut him some slack for actually carrying out his responsibilities.

Of course, that's when he feels the tug at his pant leg. Beneath the dread, he does feel a bit vindicated in his belief that the universe is out to punish him. Just a little bit, if one squinted very hard and pushed past the endless swamp of despair that was his stomach.

"Oikawa-sensei! Sensei!"

The tugging becomes more insistent. Tooru's traitorous body turns his head, instead of vanishing out of the corporeal realm like it's supposed to. Mie (class 2, not his, immediately recognizable by her perpetually precise pigtails and apparent pleasure in reporting any sort of misdemeanor) stares up at him, eyes wide beneath the brim of her white hat. Her small fingers are fisted into the fabric of his pants, and the entire thing would be rather innocuous if not for the fact that she seemed to be vibrating on the spot, as children are wont to do when they're so excited that the words are shaking them with the effort of trying to escape. And there was only one thing that he's known her to get so gleeful about.

"Kageyama-kun and Kindaichi-kun are fighting!"

Tooru _groans_. Mie takes that as permission to tug harder and jump and shout that they have to go and get them busted, or something.

Then she's pulling him away towards the more sparsely populated side of the main school building where the changing rooms are. Tooru is, for a single moment, terrified that it's going to be another awkward grade-schooler confession (it wouldn't be the first time) - then he remembers that Mie is probably the single person in the entirety of the student population to be completely invulnerable to his pleading, and also she abruptly pulls him around the corner, pointing smugly at the pair of boys pushed against the wall.

The two give absolutely no indication that they even _heard_ their entrance (despite Mie's exceedingly loud proclamation of 'there they are!'), Yuutarou in fact continuing to yell at the top of his lungs as he pins Tobio to the wall by his collar. Tobio's face is scrunched up - in confusion, pain, likely both - but he's no less angry than Yuutarou is, cheeks splotchy and red and voice just as loud. It's a wonder they couldn't hear them all the way over in the field - or, indeed, that none of the other students or teachers passing by had heard.

"Mie-chan, go back to your group," Tooru instructs, resigning himself to numerous bruises the size of children's fists. "Don't tell the other kids there's a fight. I'm stopping it right now."

Mie looks like she wants to protest - Tooru is starting to think that for a first grader, she has _way too much_ bloodlust than is healthy - but she does skulk back to the field, pouting disappointedly the whole way.

"You're- _such_ \- a piece- of crap!"

" _Maybe_ if you weren't so _useless,_ you wouldn't fail all the time-"

"It's _not_ my fault! It's never _anyone's_ fault except _yours!_ You always think you're so much better-"

"Yeah, well, maybe it's because I _am_ and you're not good enough!"

Yuutarou _screams_. He raises his fist. Tobio's eyes widen a fraction too late. That's when Tooru steps in.

" _Hey_! No fighting!"

Yuutarou is still screaming, but in frustration, struggling against Tooru's arm. Tobio is still pressed flat against the wall, despite the fact that Yuutarou's hands have been forced off him, and the look on his face conveys nothing but incomprehension. He doesn't try to move at all. There is absolutely no doubt in Tooru's mind that Yuutarou started this (Tobio would never think to privately berate someone), but focusing on that probably isn't going to make Yuutarou less inclined to punch someone.

"Yuutarou-kun. You shouldn't try to hurt your friends. Stop - stop trying to hit him, if you do I am calling your parents _right now!"_

 _That_ gets him to back off. (Though Tooru thinks that probably it only worked because of the parents' relative proximity. For the first time, he feels glad that this happened during the sports festival, instead of a field trip far, far away from Yuutarou's parents.) Still, it's only temporary, he knows - for anyone else, just this physical intervention would have been good enough, and he could have forced them both off into their teams with the knowledge that they probably wouldn't try something like that in the near future. But this has been going on long enough, and while it was unlikely Yuutarou would try something like this again, the situation can only deteriorate from here.

"Okay. Okay, we're gonna talk about this, right now, because there's no one else around to hear us, and because I don't want you two hurting each other. I'm not gonna ask who started this. What I want to know is _why_."

"I told you that-"

"No, I know. What I mean is," Tooru says, and he keeps his arm in front of Yuutarou, just in case. "Tobio-kun, _why_ did this start?"

And Tobio is looking at him, eyes full of confusion, and it looks like he is, for the first time, considering there's something _wrong_ with the situation. Which of course means that he hasn't even _begun_ to think about how he's involved in it, which is just _great_ , in Tooru's opinion. Really cuts his work out for him.

"I don't know," Tobio says, voice even, and he sounds completely sincere.

"He’s _lying_ -"

"Yuutarou-kun."

Yuutarou presses his lips into a tight line. He's still shaking, but Tooru cautiously lowers his arm, pushing him forward. He seems, at this moment, more in danger of crying for the rest of the day, but at the very least Tooru knows he can deal with _that_ much.

"Tobio-kun, you really don't know why all this arguing started?"

Tobio shakes his head vigorously, hair flying. Yuutarou's resolve is beginning to waver in the face of his utter honesty, the line of his brows wobbling.

"Alright then. Yuutarou-kun, could you tell Tobio-kun why _you_ think all this arguing started?"

"It's _him_ , it's his fault," Yuutarou says immediately, voice firm. Tobio looks like he's going to say something in his own defense, but Tooru shoots him a warning glance. "He's always calling us... he's always telling me an' Aki-chan that we suck and are no good at things, like when we play sports."

"Hey, I didn't-"

"Not in _those_ words," Tooru intervenes. Then he pauses, mulling over his words as the heat of the day begins to seep into the shadows of the building. "And why is that bad? What does it make you feel?"

Yuutarou looks blankly at him, as though he'd just asked a question even a toddler could answer. He stares, then, the furrow returning to his brow, says, "Because it's _mean_? Me and Aki-chan and all the other kids are always tryin' real hard, the best we can. It isn't _our_ fault if we can't do something. Even if we're messing something up, we're having fun. But Tobio's always yelling like he's the greatest an' like he's never made a mistake ever, and..."

He hesitates, taking a moment to cast a scornful glance at Tobio and wipe hastily at his eyes. "It makes us feel bad. It's _unfair_. There's no point playing with him."

Tobio stares.

For the first time, he looks _shocked_.

"You," he starts, stepping forward. That sinking feeling that everything is about to go sideways settles in the pit of Tooru's stomach, but before he can interject, Tobio is barrelling on, steps forceful and expression increasingly distressed. "I said all that-- everything I did, it's because I wanted to _win_. Why would you feel bad? Don't _you_ want to win?"

Tooru forgets the very specific situation he's in - that he's attempting to stop an altercation between two very small and very angry children when he's supposed to be watching over other kids in the middle of a school festival - and he pauses just to _look_ at Tobio. Tobio, whose eyes are wide and unbearably sincere, like he can't possibly understand the idea that these other children don't want what he wants, that they don't want to win just as badly as _he_ does. Tobio, who, it turns out, _was_ at fault for the continued misunderstandings and hostilities, but for reasons _he_ couldn't have been aware of, that no one thought to point out.

For a very brief moment, Tooru is reminded of himself.

Then something breaks, and suddenly Yuutarou is pushing past Tooru's limp arm with renewed vigor (and _oh_ does Tooru hope that what broke wasn't his arm).

"Of course we want to win! But that doesn't mean you can scream at us when we _don't_! Not everyone is a _genius_ like you!"

And just like that, it's out in the open - what everyone was thinking but never wanted to say aloud. The envious looks of other children mixed with resignation put into words, the unbearable distance between them solidified. From the look on Yuutarou's face, it's a kick in the teeth to even admit it. The good thing about an open secret is that you can assume that it's obvious and everyone knows about it, but no one had to say it out loud, keeping their pride and happiness safe.

"I never _thought_ you couldn't do it," Tobio says, voice cracking slightly. "You just didn't _try_ hard enough."

Clearly, Tobio never thought it had been obvious.

"Well, we _can't!_ There are just some things people can't do no matter how hard they try! So _stop_ trying to make us do something we can't!

"We're not gonna follow you anymore if you _keep being an asshole!_ "

The shout echoes across the field. A couple of passerby a few dozen meters away stop to stare at Yuutarou, who is quickly going red in the face (and boy, Tooru hopes he's not going to have to defend his language to the parents). He's breathing hard, small frame heaving with each breath - Tobio stands stock still in front of him, silent and breathless. Their hands are both fisted tightly into themselves; Tooru doesn't step forward to intercept them. They don't move, after all, eyes unblinking into each other’s.

Then they both look away. It's after a long, long pause that Tooru sighs, tension draining out of him as the fight leaves the two.

"If you want to win, you have to work _together_. You can't win a game by yourself, you know."

Tooru smiles at them, and he hopes that it's not as wobbly as it feels. The two refuse to look at each other, still, kicking the dirt at their feet defiantly. The passerby are no longer staring, going along on their way, and the sounds of children laughing and shouting are still loud and unfettered in the distance. Their friendship is hardly patched up (not even a god seems capable of that at this point, in Tooru's opinion), but they're no longer fighting, at least. Considering who they _are_ , even the most intense argument between children under the age of 10 isn't enough to stop them from playing in the games, but Tooru really has to wonder if they'll actually be okay. Tobio looks extremely uncomfortable, as though he's facing his first big existential crisis, and Yuutarou's face is slack with exhaustion. By the time their cheeks are dry and their breathing is steady, they still haven't said anything.

Then suddenly Tobio squares up, and, _no._ He _couldn_ _’t be_.

"Yuutarou."

Yuutarou's face is still innocently blank, completely ignorant as to what's about to happen.

"About everything. That I said and did."

The penny drops. Yuutarou's eyes are widening in abject horror. Everything is moving in slow motion - Yuutarou opening his mouth to object before the other says something 'gross' or 'sappy' or too 'touchy-feely', Tobio scrunching his eyes shut as he prepares to yell, fingers fisted tightly as Yuutarou takes a step forward, Tooru doing absolutely nothing and staring at them like a star is dying right before his eyes.

" _I'm_ -"

Then Tooru is careening forward as _something_ hits his back.

If he screamed, it was less out of pain and more out of the fact that he just got _cheated_ out of having all his problems solved. Now Tooru _knows_ why his rain dance didn't work. It's clearly because the universe has it out for him. Tobio and Yuutarou have already jumped apart, staring in terror at a point over Tooru's (now shortened) shoulder.

" _Argh!_ "

There's a symphony of strangled cries. Tooru wonders if he's in hell. Only in hell would there be so much _screaming_ and _pain_. It turns out to be much worse.

Behind him is a distinctive head of silver hair (one that the staff have given up on reprimanding. They've resigned to accepting it as natural. Tooru could honestly not care less about it), mussed up from its usual neat comb. Behind _that_ is a head of bleached hair (and in this case, the staff have resigned to its owner having ridiculous hair over being a public menace), and together, they're two halves of a whole headache. Informally, the headache is known as Shigeru and Kentarou.

"Oikawa-sensei!" Shigeru half-yells, cradling his nose, and behind him Kentarou grunts with his forehead clutched. Then Kentarou nudges him in the back with his elbow, looking more impatient than usual, and Shigeru 'nudges' him back with _his_ elbow, and soon they're all but _shoving_ each other in some sort of convoluted attempt to assert... _something_. Tobio and Yuutarou shrink back slightly behind Tooru at the hostility, but in all honesty, they're being downright _docile_ compared to the last time Tooru had the pleasure of breaking up an argument between them. If they were _serious_ about beating each other to a pulp, they'd already be grappling on the floor with a pair of bloody noses and hoarse screams. Yes, Tooru sometimes regrets being stuck with the loudest first grade class in the school, but on the bright side, he could've been stuck with _their_ class.

"Ahem."

Shigeru immediately stops, looking chastised, and Kentarou, now beside him, grumbles what could vaguely be interpreted as an apology. Tooru tries not to look too exasperated, and counts backwards from ten, slowly. People deserve chances, especially children, but these two don't generally show up for any good reason.

"Mad Dog-chan, Shigeru-kun. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the relay?"

At the question, Kentarou's face sours (or maybe it's the nickname), face painted in some sort of aggressive exasperation.

"'S not fer like... an _hour_."

Tooru tries not to look like he just got caught out by a grade schooler. It doesn't work.

"Yeah, we just wanted to ask you a question," Shigeru adds, earnestly, though Tooru may have taken him more seriously had he not just attempted murder on him, and also because he already knows what the question is, second chances be damned.

"No."

" _Sensei_ ," and they have the gall to look _betrayed_ , even though this is the _exact same answer he's been giving them for the past year_. "But you're the only one that knows how to play!"

"Matsukawa knows," Tooru says, because that was his trump card and he's out of options. Matsukawa will just have to find it in his heart to forgive him. "Why don't you ask Matsukawa-sensei?"

"I don't want Matsukawa-sensei," Kentarou says, glumly, at the same time Shigeru says, "he already said no."

"Then why are you still asking _me_?"

" _Sensei_ ," Shigeru starts, voice admonishingly patient. Tooru feels dread pulling at his throat. "This is the first year that we get to have a volleyball club. We don't even have a _coach_. We know you don't have the time to coach us, but if you could even teach us the basics, that would be-"

"-super awesome."

"...yeah. But that's not the _point_. You used to be known as the _Grand King of volleyball -_ like, if anyone would be the best at teaching us how to play, it would be _you,_ Oikawa-sensei."

" _You play volleyball?_ "


End file.
